None Shall Pass

On his latest album, None Shall Pass, Aesop Rock's
most distinguishable characteristic, his relentless verbosity, shows
no signs of slowing for anyone-- be it the mainstream, the
uninitiated, or even fans who couldn't keep up with Bazooka Tooth.

Aesop Rock's most distinguishable characteristic, his relentless verbosity, shows no signs of slowing-- for the mainstream, the uninitiated, or even fans who couldn't keep up with Bazooka Tooth. If anything, his lyrics are harder to follow now, and even with the 80-page lyric booklet from his last EP or the transcription of "Citronella" on his myspace, having the words spelled out for you doesn't mean it's going to be easy. When you've got a delivery this dense, all that's left for the confused or the impatient is the tracks, and the Definitive Jux roster has often (if not always) served particular tastes on that front. Luckily, Aesop Rock's latest album, None Shall Pass, is a diverse
collection of beats-- from his classical-sampling comfort zone courtesy
of the invaluable Blockhead, to looser more traditional hip-hop, to
more than a few things we haven't heard him try before. None Shall
Pass even throws in some laid-back rock riffs, some futuristic funk, a
generous dash of psychedelia, and, of course, Aes' favorite
ingredient: paranoia.

That isn't to say Aesop Rock has become impenetrable; that would imply he's no fun. He's got
enthusiasm, enunciation, and even hooks this time: The "how
alive/too alive" call-and-response from opener "Keep off the Lawn"
is custom built for audience participation, and "Catacomb Kids"
begs listeners to follow the bouncing ball even if you can't make out every young, suburban misadventure he wedges into the lyrics. The title track quickly steals the show here,
however, a stunning shake-up in both beat and delivery in Aesop
Rock's oeuvre.

"None Shall Pass" itself slides
past on a near-disco beat layered with eerie, broken children's
keyboards and ominous clean guitar that Aes wraps his words around
nimbly and capably in a way old-school nods like "11:35" only
hinted at. The atmosphere is grim, certainly, but with generous
bounce and a wry grimace, and it's a microcosm for the vibe of the
whole record in addition to being its best track. I often miss the
Aesop Rock who strolled through the grimy back alleys of his city
just looking for a story to tell on old tracks like "6B Panorama"
and "Skip Town" (both from Float) but "None Shall Pass"
is like a quick drive through the same city years later when it's
become too dangerous for anything more than a glance out the window.

Abstraction is an easy screen, however,
and you may not notice the dark co-dependency tale of "Fumes"
move over the line from frank slice-of-drug-life narrative to
insensitive and bitter through the hissing wet consonants of his
delivery. Thankfully, it's overshadowed by songs that are straight-up
playful: The bongo-augmented beat to "Bring Black Pluto" is a
return to what Aesop and Blockhead do best, and while the connection
between demoting Pluto as a planet and Pee Wee's Big Adventure
are tenuous to me right now, anyone who fits in a reference to Large
Marge and the eye of Cerberus in the same song surely earns extra
points in heaven. Of course, there's guest spots from the Def Jux
roster, and while Cage talks about his fucked-up childhood and El-P
talks about his fucked-up adulthood, the former absolutely tears it
over the irrepressible drumbeat of "Getaway Car", and El-P is
still potent when he's just shouting a few choice words for a hook on
"39 Thieves" and elevating"Gun for the Whole Family" amongst the
record's often sluggish second half.

None Shall Pass is a little
longer than it needs to be; much as I like his slippery but assured
flow on "Five Fingers", cutting everything from acidic groove of
"Citronella" straight to closing track "Coffee" would have
made the point just as easily. That final track is the biggest jump
for Aes, with what's basically a live-band track of slippery bass and
chiming guitar with shades of the Fixx, which he bounces merrily
over. This is the one John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats guests on,
and he serves as the sort of fat lady of the record: he speak-sings
his strangely evocative verse in his pinched and equally distinctive
voice, and then it's over. I applaud Aes' willing to experiment and
his taste in songwriters, but it ends the record on an uncertain
note, and sort of the wrong foot... that is, until you get to the
hidden track, another seeming live track of gutbucket slide-guitar
funk, once again darting sideways in the face of expectation.

What you can glean from a surface
listening is an Aes who's still paranoid but almost loving it, grown
somewhat bemused at the looming apocalypse. Part of the shine for
None Shall Pass stems from goodwill earned by earlier albums
that were more quotable and more focused, but another very large part
is his artistic restlessness and his adaptable flow-- you know, the
part that makes you want to listen to a record more than once.
Beats-first, lyrics-second people have enough here to return to, and
lyric freaks know there's plenty here to unpack. None Shall Pass
is not a case to make him famous, but more a hyper-speed revision of
what makes him worth following. Neophytes start elsewhere, but make
sure to catch up at some point.